


Jailbreak

by Noviiko



Category: Ahwm - Fandom
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 17:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noviiko/pseuds/Noviiko
Summary: When it comes to you, you really don't care.Prison is something you deserve, but those whose families count on them? They don't.So when one Inmate comes from desperation to you to break out, you don't hesitate.Yancy doesn't like it, therefore he does not like you.When more come to you for help, it doesn't end well.
Relationships: Reader/Original Characters, Y/n/Yancy, Yancy/Reader, reader/yancy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

It couldn't be that bad, right?   
Robbing a museum for a box and getting caught isn't absolutely terrible.  
Sneaking it past the pat down check and keeping it on your person inside the prison isn't the worst thing you've done.   
Although, pissing off the most popular leader in said prison really wasn't the best choice, it was actually the worst.   
So when you waltzed yourself into the cafeteria three days after rocking Yancy's world and landing him in solitary confinement, his boys were none too happy. 

It started with the glares.   
Their beady little eyes followed you as you shuffled through the food line, keeping your gaze forward in an attempt to ignore the daggers piercing the back of your skull, but it wasn't working too well. With your hands gripping the food tray so hard you think the plastic would shatter in your grasp, you sit at one of the flimsy tables and let a stifled sigh slip past your clenched teeth. Maybe they're just admiring your half brushed hair in an extremely aggressive manner. 

It isn't until two hands grasp your shoulders and hoist you out of your seat does your heart leap to your throat, unintentionally choking you out of any response. With a 6"5 man holding you by your shirt and keeping you off the ground by at least an inch, you wouldn't want to say something in the first place. 

He's not holding you just because he likes you though, he absolutely loves you when he clears that flimsy table of any objects as he tosses you across it. You slide right off the other side and hit the floor with a hard thud, a colorful and fruity smelling mess covering the front of your shirt. 

That action alone erupts the whole cafeteria into mass hysteria, people yelling and running, others hiding. It's your first instinct to scoot underneath the table and hope that same guy doesn't join you down there. 

It dies within seconds, a blaring alarm cutting through the noise like a knife. Tasers and batons are used with force, the very few guards at the scene struggling to make sense of anything happening, but none of this makes sense to you. All you wanted to do was get a damn box. 

It's only when a face that makes you want to scream appears in front of you that your thoughts stop drowning you, that bald headed bastard giving you a glare like this was your fault. 

He yanks you out from under that table and eyes you with his hand gripping the back of your shirt, his eyes immediately finding the nicely smelling mess on the front of your shirt. He's clearly disgusted. 

"Go get a clean shirt" is all he says as he shoves you towards a guard who's way too prepared to leave the room. They take you to the laundry room but it's the size of a middle class house, you suppose that a prison gets something more luxurious than a simple laundry room. 

You sigh as you pull off the stained, striped shirt, leaving you in a plain white tee underneath. You toss the ruined shirt into a white bin labeled dirty clothes, slowly approaching the only two figures that are in this room with you. 

" Do you guys know where I can ge-" you start to say before one of the figures cut you off. 

"new shirt?" Apparently they immediately knew what you needed. Now that you looked at them they really stood out. Standing unnaturally tall for an average female, they towered over you a good bit. She had dark skin and wore the same clothes as you, except the sleeve had been cut off to make a muscle tee. 

"Here you go, fruity" they quipped with a grin, handing a shirt to you and you pulled it on with flushed cheeks. Apparently the fruit smell lingered from your last shirt. 

You mumbled a grateful thanks, smoothing the shirt out across your chest and trying anything to avoid making this awkward. You haven't even seen the other person yet. 

"Names Brooklyn, You're the one to piss off Yancy, yeah?" She was smooth with conversations it seemed, her form turning and leaning against the folding table. 

You sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck "uh, yeah? I mean, I did kinda beat the shit out of him" you shrugged a bit, shoulders deflating as a sigh made it out of your form. 

"I assume Yancy's boys gave you one of their 'talks', yeah?" Brooklyn questioned, picking at the loose threads of her discarded sleeves "They're a bunch of idiots if you ask me, a little out there too. Yancy wouldn't be half bad if it wasn't for his boys and their undying loyalty" 

You hoisted yourself up to sit on one of the washing machines that wasn't in use "I mean, within five minutes of meeting him he punched me so I don't know" you shrugged "He seems cool? I just feel like they're out for my blood" 

"Hey, I'm in a group. We're tough, ready to rough up some guys. Even short stack right here can land a punch " she gestured to the much smaller girl next to her who was quietly folding laundry. She didn't look any younger than 15 and the prison clothes she was wearing were too big. She was a baby compared to them two. 

"We'll be your girls since yancy has his boys" she chuckled, standing up fully and moving to leave the room with the younger girl at her heels. 

"See ya later, cutie!" She called out to you as she left. 

Did you just make a friend?


	2. Chapter//2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the gang: )

Since the fight, which wasn't really a fight, it was you getting slammed into a table, you've been on solitary lunch and yard time for a week. You get that it was for safety so everything would calm down but loneliness never sat well with you, just made your chest tight all the time. 

First day back in the yard was probably the hardest, some people thought you had been transferred to the prison across the state, others thought you would be in solitary longer. You were still here though, looking warily at the stares across the yard as you shuffled along the fence line. Your heart was about to stammer out of your chest. 

Your eyes concentrated on a group of inmates playing with a bat and ball, they were allowed to have those? Wouldn't those be considered weapons? You guess it was only for those on good behavior. More formally known as not you. 

It was times like these that you actually missed that dumbass you call partner, wherever the hell he went. His stupid jokes would be nice right now. 

It wasn't long before you got interrupted by a large hand clapping your shoulder, it made you almost jump out of your skin. You guess that the fight caused some underlying anxiety but why wouldn't it? Almost killed you over punching yancy. What was happening to that guy anyways?

"Hey, Fruity! Calm down, just me, y'know, laundry person from last week?" She definitely had a strong arm, you think you heard your shoulder pop. You offered the taller woman a meek nod. 

"You alright?" Her natural grin faltered as her eyes were boring into yours, trying to find answers. You let out a small little cough. 

"Uh, yeah. Just anxious I guess? Everyone's kinda looking at me weird …" it wasn't sitting with you well and it showed, your shoulders collapsing inward and your arms pulled towards your chest. 

"Oh, psh, don't mind them. They're always like that. Come with me, I'll introduce you to the gang" it wasn't a suggestion and more of a command, it wasn't a mean one though. Brooklyn took ahold of your wrist and pulled you alongside her. She was leading you to the group playing baseball. 

Pulling you around the gate and towards the group, she spoke fondly of her family she called them. They sounded nice enough, but one of them armed with a bat already made you anxious enough. 

Once they noticed brooklyn they stopped playing, the bat coming to rest on the shoulder of a girl with black hair. She looked kinda enough, right? Maybe she won't make you kiss that bat today. 

"Hey, it's my girls!" Brooklyn praised as she walked up, leaving you behind the greet them each personally. Each of them getting a hug and a pat on the head and they took it positively with smiles and hugs to give back.

She looked at you with beaming eyes, her hand resting on top of the head of a girl who clearly wasn't over 18. She had strawberry blonde hair. " Cassy" Brooklyn pronounced happily, the strawberry blonde girl named Cassy giving an anxious smile and glancing away. Brooklyn slide over to the next person

The next girl was also not of legal age, two juveniles in jail, for what reason? She had brown, highlighted hair that was half up in a bun, held in place by a tattered tie. A sigh came from her when Brooklyn rested her hand on her head " Amelia". Amelia, a meek but fit girl slightly dipped her head in acknowledgement. They both seemed nervous. 

The next girl seemed more outgoing, black hair that was pulled into a loose bun that rested on the back of her neck, braids pulled into it. Her eyes were brown and blue, intriguing. She smiled and waved slightly as Brooklyn stated her name "Dakota". 

"These are my girls, pride and joy right here!" Brooklyn boasted with her hands on her hips, a wide smile on her face. You nodded a bit, soaking in their faces and names, rehearsing them in your head. Cassy, Amelia, and Dakota. 

"We're missing one, though! She's working" Dakota moved the bat from her shoulder to sitting on top of her foot. 

"Working? As in, y'know? In the laundry unit or something?" You asked with furrowed eyebrows. You weren't too sure, wouldn't she be out here with everyone then?

"Oh, no. She's happy trails Psychologist" Dakota informed you, a loving smile on her face as she looked at you. The sun was striking her eyes in such a nice way. 

Ah, The Happy Trails psychologist. Dr. Mendoza, right? She evaluated you when you first came in. Blonde, clearly of a spanish descent. She was friends with a bunch of inmates who counted as her own patients? This place gets weirder every day that you're here. 

Dakota and Amelia went back to playing baseball, as much of a game of a baseball you could have with two people, while the remaining two sat with you against the fence. 

"Y'know you're welcomed in our group, right? You already show that you can hold your own and the girls like you from what I've told 'em" Brooklyn commented, her back snug against the chain link fence with Cassy settling into her side. They seemed close. 

"Really? You guys seem like the group that would make me jump through hoops for you to just look at me" you responded, eyes squinting against the sun. 

"You already went toe to toe with the reigning leader of this prison, you've done more than enough to catch our eyes " the taller woman reassured, watching the two play ball. 

It was quiet until Amelia tripped while running after the ball that Dakota hit, a hole tearing into the knee of her pants, rocks jutting into her skin. You almost got up to sprint over but Dakota was beating you there. She sat the girl up with gentle hands, examining her bloody knee. Without hesitation she tore off a part of her own shirt and wrapped it around the wound after she carefully brushed away the dirt. Dakota gave her a wide smile and two thumbs up, hoisting her up onto her feet. She had Amelia jump onto her back and Dakota carried her back to brooklyn where she sat in front of her. 

They talked for the next few minutes, Brooklyn catering to Amelia's scuffed knee and Dakota playing some kind of clapping game with Cassy. It all fit well together. 

One big happy family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yancy next chapter 😳👊


	3. Chapter//3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions continue to run harsh.

Ever since your questionable behavior in the penitentiary you've been set on a bi-weekly schedule of psychological checkups. You haven't seen Dr. Mendoza since entering Happy Trails and you've already met her supposed friends, she's probably heard more about you than you would have preferred. 

You had been put into a solid white room for the meantime, a metal table and two chairs being the only items occupying the room. It was mind numbing to sit in here, you don't even know how long it's been because they didn't put a clock in this room, were they that wary of weapons but still put furniture in here?

It was an unbearable amount of time before Dr. Mendoza had entered the room. She looked about the same as when you met her for the first time, blonde hair pulled in dual buns, space buns, right? That's what your mom called them. She wore a pretty red dress that flowed to her knees with a white coat over her form. She sat down in the chair across from you with a manilla folder. 

She eyed you for a moment before opening her mouth "The girls have told me a lot about you"

Only a dry, nervous chuckle came from you as you licked your lips, leg bouncing against the table. She wrote something down on a notepad soon after. 

She pulled a recorder from her pocket and set it on the table, clicking it on and stating your first and last name, identification number, and last time seen. You became more anxious with each breathe. Each click of her pen. Every blink of an eye. 

"You seem preoccupied" she commented, your wide eyes looking into her green hues, hand clenching at the hem of your shirt with a deathening grip. You could probably pop Brooklyn's wrist with such force. 

"Just .. nervous" your head shook slightly, lips pressing into a thin line against your teeth. Your chest was tight. It used to not be like this, maybe it's the lack of companionship from Mark now, that bastard, or maybe everything's changing too fast for you. Life's not stable anymore. You just made a decision out of two, Mark always spoke and directed you in the best interest of you both. 

Her eyes squinted at you with unwavering steel, watching you sway and shudder. More notes went down on her notepad, what was she even writing? Something to damn you? Or just making fun of you? 

She went on to question you, asking your thoughts on the fight with yancy you had on your first day. You didn't think too harshly on it, Yancy was probably a little trigger happy when it came to new people, you didn't hold it too hard. His boys though? That wasn't acceptable. Yancy should have taught them better. 

She pressures you about how you feel and what thoughts you have, showing you some pictures and asking you what you see, what you think about them. Did they make you nervous scared? Maybe restless? She lingered on the ones you feared. 

She had two pages of notes before she clicked the recorder off, giving you a wide smile while your pale face peered back at her. She seemingly brushed it off and you did the same. 

"Brooklyn told me a bit about you, you came into the laundry room during her shift and needed a new shirt. Said you smelled fruity" she laughed a bit, sliding her papers into the folder again. "They really like you, y'know. If you ever want to get closer with them just tell me, I can put in requests for cell transfers and say it's for mental stability" 

You nodded a bit, the woman standing up and patting you on the shoulder "Have a good day… fruity. A guards here to accompany you to the lunch room" a wryly smile appeared on your face. 

You left the room after her and walked with the guard to the cafeteria. Bustling noise came from the room, people walking past the doorway and communicating with each other. You ignored them and went to go sit in the corner, you felt a little light headed. 

You aren't sure when it happened but you suddenly went from lonely to a pair, a dark haired man making himself at home next to you while you walked. 

"So youse's finally out of solitary for causing a fight while I was gone?" He quipped, crossing his arms and tucking his hands into his sides. A grin was apparent on his face and didn't falter when you gave him an odd look. 

"I didn't start anything" you stated, stopping in your tracks to look him straight in the eyes. 

"My boys say you did and youse knows my boys don't lie" he retorted "don't lie and embarrass youseself in front of everyone" 

"Oh shut up" you sighed with a roll of your eyes, what felt similar to a headache pressing against your skull. You went to sit down. 

Yancy grabbed your arm with a "now youse listen here!" and you just let go. Totally. The little thread that was holding you together in your mind snapped and you went down like a ton of bricks in the middle of the cafeteria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We getting into the thick of it yall🤧


	4. Chapter//4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's falling into place

You had woken up just a while ago, still light headed but awake nonetheless. A light thump was dancing around your skull with a neverending pulse to it, making your eyes shut as you sat up and sighed. You've spent the last twenty minutes just laying around in your cell. 

So you passed out right in the middle of the cafeteria while arguing with yancy, isn't that rich. You're sure he would have a few choice words about that event the next time you would see him, and you'd probably stuff your first between his teeth. You were gonna end up in solitary confinement at some point, be honest with yourself. 

The C block guard came by and gave you a cup of water, he was the same guard who, after you fought Yancy the first time, seemed very upset about it. He just gave you a polite smile and told you he hoped you would feel better, when were prison guards so nice to inmates? 

You reached your hand underneath your pillow and touched the box, feeling the engravings, bumps, and points of it. It's too risky to keep it on your person right now so you've been keeping it in your cell, you just weren't sure what to do when they would inevitably search your cell. You'd have to think of something at some point, but right now it was safe right here. 

You drank the cup of water in sips, not really wanting it but it may help relieve your headache, and possibly keep you from passing out again. Why did you pass out in the first place? Maybe you weren't eating and drinking enough. 

You got up and stretched, taking in a few deep breaths and steadying yourself. Maybe you could find the girls, or just spend time by yourself and hope things so smoothly. 

A series of clinking sounded about the bars in front of you, a pair of beady brown eyes staring at you intensely "hey" 

"Hi?" You replied, giving a slight wave, eyebrows raised in question about what he was wanting. His hands were gripped onto the bars tightly, he looked pale and thin, face hollow. Was he okay? 

"I need your help. I need to get out. " he stated, he sounded desperate and it seemed that way, he was asking a complete stranger to break him out of a penitentiary. He was risking it all. He noticed your unconvinced look and sighed "I have two young boys whose mom is a drunk, they'll never survive if I'm in here" 

Your eyes softened and brows settled, you couldn't just tell him no. It would hurt you more than him at that point. You raised your hands in a kind gesture "look, I don't know if i could actually do anything but I'll find out something for you, okay? We keep this hush-hush". 

He pushed his hand through the bars and held his pink out for you "promise me you'll try " your moment of hesitation seemed to upset him "please" 

Your pinky hooked with his and the promise was formed, one you didn't know could be filled in your position. He murmured his name. 

James. 

His head whipped around at footsteps approaching, eyes widening. Was it a guard? Maybe Murder-Slaughter? He was a mean man so you could understand the fear at his presence. 

A body of stripes and black slicked hair appeared in front of James, asking him if he could keep going down the hall. That's when James scurried down the hall. 

Yancy's eyes looked to meet yours, leaning against the bars "What were yourse's talking about?" he was expecting an answer, that much was clear, but you didn't know if he already knew the answer or not. 

"He just wanted to chat" you shrugged nonchalantly as you sat down on the rickety bed, the springs creaking in protest. You avoided eye contact and opted for looking at the sink and toilet combo on the wall. They were courteous enough to give you a pull around curtain. 

"That wasn't just chatting" he stated firmly, his gaze continuing to burn holes into your skin " youse knows, he came by, 'chatted' with me too. Said he wanted out" Yancy looked at his nails like a stuck up woman, admiring at the fact that his nail beds were smooth and healthy. 

"Why would he want out?" You asked, you weren't about to out James to a guy who had no hesitation to start a fight. 

He sighed and pushed himself off the bars " Listen here, I know he asked youse to help him. I may not knows what youse said, but youse better not. I'm not a snitch but I will make sure you get your fair share" his nose scrunched up and he banged his fist against the bars and walked away. Yancy was extremely aggressive towards you for some reason, was he intimidated or just didn't like you at all? You would probably never know. 

You sighed, what the hell was going on? How did you even get yourself into this mess in the first place. Oh, yeah. The helicopter. Whatever, you can't change your choice now, even if you still have continued making some pretty poor choices, such as smuggling that box through security with the help of Mark, although his ancient gun didn't make it. 

You reached under your pillow and pulled out the box, admiring it for itself artistic value. It was beautiful, it may have been handcrafted for all you know. Every engraving precise and the gem reflecting in the light so nicely. It's blue reminded you of the color of Dakota's left eye. Your fingers pressed underneath the top of it, pushing it up slightly. You were extremely tempted to open the box, Mark had told you not to unless necessary, and you weren't in the worst situation. You pushed the top back on and put the box under your pillow again. 

You started to think, how would you get him out? You can't just push him out of the front gates. Maybe passage ways could work? You knew the sewers were connected from every cell and lead to a general displacement for waste. Now you weren't willing to just climb climb into the sewers, but you could follow the sewer line. Who's to say that the Sewer would always be the worst thing for you? It could get you out of penitentiary. 

That's when you started to knock against the blocks of your cell, trying to find a weak focal point. There was one that leads to the next cell over but you didn't need to go that way. The next was right around the sink, perfect, you could break away the blocks and cement and find a way to the sewer output. Now you need to get your hands on something like a pick, if anyone had it they weren't willing to just give it to you to break someone out. You'd have to pull some favors or trade for it. 

You really didn't want to ask the girls for a favor like this, for all you knew they could tell Dr. Mendoza and she would ruin your life even more. You didn't have many choices but you needed to make a decision. 

You left the cell block after a guard let you out upon request, saying you needed to go down to the infirmary for severe pain. You felt guilty for lying to him, he really was light hearted and cared for everyone. 

You know there's drug addicts here, and as much as you didn't want to fuel their addiction their help could be valuable to you, so you were going to steal some pain killers. 

Upon arriving and being asked what symptoms you were experiencing, you collapsed against one of the tables and wailed about the great amount of pain, that your muscles are burning. Immediate concern took over and they gave you a dose of painkillers, you faked putting them in your mouth and stuffed them into your pocket. You waited thirty minutes before saying the pain was alleviated. They didn't have a concern about giving you pills seeing as the only thing that was on your record was robbing a museum. 

Next time the commissions opens for inmates earning money, you'll get yourself a pick. 

Until then, you needed to get a team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didnt even proof read this oh god. Also! Trouble up ahead


	5. Chapter//5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendliness isn't a string suit towards you.   
//did not edit or proof-read, nor beta read, we die like men//

Commissions had opened two weeks after you had visited the infirmary and you've been back there at least 5 times since, collecting enough pain killers to be an extremely tempting deal. You've kept them in a balled piece of paper underneath your pillow, against the box. Commissions was basically a market where people who earned money from working in the penitentiary could spend it or people with desired skills and items could sell, it created a very small economy and flow within Happy Trails. 

Being in the middle of it all, walking between vendors was actually therapeutic, they were just people clinging onto a small bit of normal, human life. Talking deals and buying items, the excitement in their eyes to have something they've desired or desperately needed. It made you a little happy. 

You kept the paper ball in your hands, tucked in towards your stomach as you shuffled around with the crowd, eyes looking at the various items on the tables. Jewelry, books, paper, some beautifully done pieces of art. They really were just normal people who did a thing or two and ended up here, wanting to desperately go back to normal life and forget their mistakes. Like you do. 

The slow current of people lead you to the end of the line where older, more hush-hush kind of people sat and waited for people interested in more solicited services. When you told the girls you would be coming to the commissions they warned you not to approach them, they had a reputation according to them, but so did you which meant you would fit right in. 

You eyed an older man who definitely looked like he could use these painkillers, scars covering his body and his posture stiff, he was in rough shape. He noticed you and offered you a friendly smile, beckoning you over with a swift motion of his hand. He was missing half of his index finger. 

Sitting down on a table next to him, you settled the paper ball into your lap and looked down at him. He already knew what you had by the look of his relieved and happy expression, you did feel bad if he was in pain, he perhaps was an addict and wasn't allowed to be medicated. You'd hate to be tortured like that. 

"Looking for services?" He questioned, he had a smooth voice despite his rugged appearance, leaning forward with his elbows against his knees and rubbing the palms of his hands together. 

"Yessir, I am in the market for a.. stone pick, in exchange for twenty-five painkillers" you spoke in a hushed tone, leaning forward a bit to keep the conversation closed off, hands placed in your lap. His expression only got happier at the confirmation of the payment. 

"I can definitely get that for you, hold on" he was able to get that for you in this instant? You expected a wait time. He stood up and left, walking with a limp you noted. You sighed and swing your legs underneath you as you waited, and that wait was fifteen minutes. You had begun to think that he had left the commissions building for reasons unknown.

He finally returned with a parcel, a white cloth tied up to make a bag, red string securing it. He held it out to you and took it, it was heavy in your hands, in exchange you gave him the paper ball and stayed so you could help him count out the twenty-five pills. He was extremely happy with you, shaking your hand and asking for your name in which you gave and he told you his. 

Lee. 

You went on your way then, finding your way back into the slow current to leave commissions. You looked at all the vendors on this side now, beautiful pieces of handmade crafts being sold for as little as two dollars, they were certainly underpriced. Food was also a pretty large staple here, some of the inmates having amazing culinary skills. 

Lots of it was to-go style food in boxes or wrapped up, anything from sandwiches to soups. It looked really good although you weren't hungry, you haven't had much of an appetite since arriving to Happy Trails. Dr. Mendoza has made a point to comment about it. 

In the middle of such beautifully made food was an… outlier. Set on paper plates and looked as if it was a meal for someone with the munchies at three am, were noodle weenie dogs, the sign told you as much. The only man capable of promoting such an atrocity was the former Ohio resident and stick up your ass; Yancy. 

He was standing behind the table chattering away about how amazing these noodle weenie dogs were, that his cousins Giovanni, Tony, Romeo and Mario made these when they were in prison. Apparently his family had a track record of being inmates, how wonderful. 

They weren't good looking at all, they were pieces of hot dogs that had been skewered onto a stick of spaghetti and then boiled and it made you sick looking at them. Your nose scrunched up in disgust and you broke off from the current to leave. 

With the parcel in hand and a pip in your step you walked out of the crowd, feeling pretty proud of yourself. You did it! You got your pick without anyone having to intervene and nothing went wrong. Although you spoke too soon. 

Just breaking from the crowd you ran into a bit of trouble, that trouble being a man with a knife and he was really gunning it for you without a second thought. He shoved you and brought the knife up to your face, making you drop your newly acquired package onto the floor. Thankfully it didn't take long for someone to take action to help you, you just didn't expect it to be the noodle weenie dog salesman. Yancy jumped right out from behind his booth and grabbed the guy by his shirt, ready to fight him. A kind stranger had picked up your bag and handed it back to you once you have gained your composure. You thanked them quickly. 

The fight was over as soon as it started, the guy being detained and knife confiscated. Yancy only spared you a glance, seeing something you didn't notice and he pulled a rag out from his back pocket and smudge it against your face for a moment before walking away without a word. That's when you noticed the sting, the knife had only caught you slightly. He had just threatened you two weeks ago and was now cleaning your wounds, what a strange man. You didn't question it any further and left commissions. 

Onto step two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We going into a breakout!


	6. Chapter//6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends, broken ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! Took a little while to update, been really busy. My lovely buddies (they know who they are) reminded me to update and kept me really energized, I'm getting over a sinus infection for the second time in three weeks but expect an update in about a week! : )

After the incident the other day you'd been keeping yourself in your cell,chipping away at the false wall by the toilet. The one downside was that the cinder blocks were showing the damaging hits of the pick, you noticed that after 30 minutes of working at it. Your solution was to take the sheet off your flimsy bed and hang it up on the wall, when the guard asked why you had done it you said you really enjoyed painting as a kid and it reminded you of a canvas. He found it adorable and even told you he would bring you another sheet and put in a request for paints. 

What kind of penitentiary was this and who the hell was nice to inmates? You literally robbed a museum, destroyed priceless artifacts and attempted to steal a Helicopter. Given you couldn't pilot it and Mark was fuming over that. 

Your only break was when a clang against your cell made you jump, scrambling to cover up the nicely sized hole in the wall and tossing the pick underneath your bed. The fear of it being an officer was much more threatening than death right now. 

"What are you working on?" It was only James, his arms through the cell gate and leaning against it. For the scare he gave you, you might as well beat the shit out of him right now. 

"A way to get you out, dummy" you sighed, leaning down to retrieve the pick from underneath your dusty bed. 

He seemed unfazed by the new nickname you gave him "You found a way out?" 

"I think so? I checked the walls the best I could with my fist and by the toilet it sounds hollow, leading me to believe that there's a sewer system behind there" you explained, showing him the damage to the block and turning back.

He wasn't there, which was impossible, you literally turned around for a few measly seconds. Walking up to the bars you couldn't see him in any of your peripherals. It left your mouth dry with the anxiety it gave you, were you going mad? 

That was almost solidified when a man you never that you'd see again walked up to your cell; Mark. 

A guard was directing him while unlocking the gate, sliding it open and allowing him to enter. 

"Hi buddy!" He boomed as he smiled, nestling right up against your side. He was wearing the black and white jumpsuit, meaning he was definitely a convict still. He must've been fine after getting punched through a wall. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, voice coming off more sharp than you intended. He didn't flinch nor regard it in any way, instead strutting around your cell. Well, not yours anymore really. 

"I'm a convict! Just like you, what? Not happy to see me?" He asked, stepping on the bottom rail and pushing himself up to sit on the top bunk. He could tell you've made yourself comfortable in the bottom one. 

"No, no, it's nice to see you're alive and well but you're just gonna act like nothing happened? That we didn't rob a museum?" You asked, motioning with your hands that you weren't exactly content. 

"Right! Right, you still have that box?" He asked, ignoring your questions, messing with the thin thread sheet. 

You sighed, moving to pull it from underneath your pillow, showing him quickly before placing it back. You didn't need someone to see it. 

"You got that through patdown? You're amazing. But uh, you didn't open it, right?" He asked, analyzing gaze on you now. That made you freeze. 

"Of course not" you responded. 

"Good!" He smiled, launching himself off the top bunk and walking around the cell. He pulled the sheet back on the wall and marveled at the block you've severely wounded. 

"Woah! Buddy, you did this? This is impressive" his hands pressed against the rough cement as he praised you, picking up the pick and weighing it in his grasp. 

"I got that from commissions" you stated before he could ask, sitting down on the bottom bunk. 

"Isn't that the place where they sold those really weird noodles? They had sausages on them or something" he responded to you, pressing the pick against the wall.

"Hot dogs and yes, the man who was selling those was the same guy I beat up when we first got here. I also have some beef with him somehow, I don't understand it really" you told him, trying to leave it at that.

He didn't ask anything about it, not because he was curious but more so it was lunch period. 

The walk with Mark to the cafeteria? Disastrous. Everyone took one look at him and wanted to fight him immediately, you suppose it was just his face. It took you leading him by his hand to survive the trip. 

It was a quiet ordeal through the line, then trying to find a place to sit. You really preferred to sit off in a corner, not wanting another lunch to be ruined by Yancy's gang of menaces. Mark hasn't asked you any further about him and you didn't explain, you wanted to keep him out of your mind as much as possible. 

Luck was very much on your side today, a familiar gang of girls allowing you and Mark to sit with them today, off in the corner of the room. They said it was their usual spot, off from everyone else to discuss their personal ideals. 

You sat beside brooke, Mark beside Dakota. Brooke was babbling on about something, you only caught pieces and you got the idea that it was about a job she had at one point. Dakota was speaking with Amelia, the two conversing quietly. They seemed close. 

"How do you know them?" Mark asked, picking around some mildly cooked green beans. You never knew him to be too terribly picky about food, but penitentiary food was pretty bad. 

"Met them one day. Brooklyn was working with Cassy in the laundry room when I basically got assaulted and had to change my shirt" you explained, using your fork to point out the people you mentioned. 

"And these two?" He beckoned towards the two who were conversing. 

"Met them at the field, Dakota was playing baseball and everyone else was pitching in" the brunette perked up at the mention of her name, looking over at you two before you dismissed her. 

Mark looked back at you with wide eyes "you saw that girls eyes?" 

"Dakotas?" You asked. 

"They're different colors" he whispered to you. 

"Not everyone in the world is as boring as us, Mark" you laughed, stomaching the poorly done food. 

Cassy called out your name, looking at you with her chin tilted down. You told her you were listening and for her to go on. 

"Your boyfriend?" She asked, pointing between you and mark. You immediately flustered while Mark grinned wide with a laugh. 

"No, cassy. We're associates" you responded, the girl turning red with embarrassment. 

"Hey!" Mark punched you lightly in the side "we're friends" 

"Yeah, associates don't go to prison together or anything. Only friends do that, we would know" Amelia budded into the conversation. 

"What did you guys do to get here?" You suddenly asked, realizing you never figured that out. 

"Ah.. we'd rather not say" a stillness came over the atmosphere as Brooke dismissed your question. It was a little tense now, everyone coughing to try and cover up their discomfort.

You mumbled an okay, collecting everyone's trays and dumping them, taking them to the wash bin. You looked at the table from that distance, they were starting to converse again, which made you feel good. They were talking like old friends. 

Then it hit you, Mark didn't introduce himself and they didn't ask who he was. Nor did they tell him who they were, they were already comfortable at his presence, they didn't tell him he could hang out with them like they had done with you. That didn't make sense, it was expressed to you that they didn't easily accept outsiders. 

Mark wasn't an outsider to them.


	7. Chapter//7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank heist time for this 😌

With the realization that the girls knew mark prior to the lunch in the cafeteria it became harder to talk to him, if you could squeeze a word in when he rambled on and on about whatever bounced around in his empty skull. Since you met him he always did the talking for you and now you realized it was to keep unneeded things from being said, not that he enjoyed the sound of his voice, although he still did. 

It became more puzzling as the days went by, a week to be exact and Mark didn’t explain himself. Your fingers pulled at the springs of the poor quality mattress above you, listening to them creak and whine under the intentional stress. 

“Why are you so quiet down there?” He whined, head leaning over the side of the top bunk to get a good look at you, you didn’t spare him a glance. 

“Aren’t I always quiet? You always did most of the talking, I just made the choices” the blunt sentence made his lips pull back in a frown. 

You were unfazed when he willingly threw his body off of the mattress and his back found residency on the concrete floor, narrowly missing your expertly placed sheet on the wall. As promised the guard got you paint and there were now terrible, poorly done finger paintings on the white sheet, mostly done by mark. You added a smiling sun to the scene. 

“It’s yard time” he said, grabbing your arm and tugging on it hard enough for a pop to emit from your shoulder joint. 

“Yeah, it’s steak time too, as you always say. Where did you even learn that?” 

“That’s unimportant” he quickly dismissed as he cuffed his arms underneath your own, hoisting you from the bottom bunk and onto your own feet. The stripped prison clothes rustled, not only did they feel horrible they sounded it too. 

The guard allowed you two out and escorted you to the yard where there  
there was a menagerie of activities going on. Basketball, four square, hop-scotch, jump-rope, and lots more. Mark wanted to go play with the rude, mean inmates who were engaged in a game of choking each other out with a piece of linen, secluded behind a few trees. You refused. 

“But I wanna go play!” He whined, stomping one foot like an angry rooster and pouting. 

“Then go play, I’ll be in the field” you took a few cautious steps away before turning towards your destination, listening to Marks footprints quickly fade with a sigh. He’s more tiring than you remember. 

You approached the girls, playing their game of pity baseball with three members, Brooke sitting out. It had been told that she wouldn’t play because her height made her overthrow the ball often, Dakota was only a few inches shorter and her experience didn’t help get the ball in time. 

You were greeted with a nod from brooke, her white stripes now sandy from her seat in the clay “Hey fruity, haven’t seen you in a few days, thought you might’ve died or something” 

Brookes sarcasm fell on deaf ears as you plopped down beside her, a huff coming from your defeated form “I’m not in a good mood” 

“Yeah?” The other woman replied “seems to be that way for everyone, Dakota woke up sad today, took a couple of hugs to get her to come outside. Cassy was sad because everyone else was upset, it’s a chain reaction. What’s on your mind?” 

“What am I doing here?” You blurted out, hands moving in frustration. You were supposed to be at home, life changed but in a good way, like mark said. “I shouldn’t be convicted of robbery” 

A hum came from her, nodding a bit, like she understand. Maybe she did, it was never explicitly explained what they were here for. 

“Maybe you’re here to change some things up, ya know? Like freeing people like you’re already planning to do” she suggested, a nonchalant shrug accompanying it. It was easy for her to say, all she had to do was keep the girls in line, not suddenly becoming someone’s savior after they suddenly appear at your cell begging for it.

“I guess..” you murmured “I just wish to be home, watching some dumb movie before all that stuff happened. A sick feeling nestled into your gut at how vulnerable you were being, all this information basically being tossed in the air for Brooke to see. You suddenly stood up and brushed the sand off your clothes “I’m gonna go do something dumb” 

You set off towards the recreational buildings exterior walls, looking for a ladder on the backside of it. Only inmates who picked up jobs used this ladder and it was to usually pick up tools from the roof. It was hard climbing up it quietly, the racket from the rusted metal causing a few curious eyes.

Finding a tool box wasn’t hard, they were scattered about the roof but knowing which one you needed would be difficult. You could already feel the headache coming on, all you needed were some wedges, it was taking too long to fully chip out the cinderblocks so you decided to start wedging them out. It would save time and some suspicion without there being a gigantic hole in the wall. 

Your first five minutes of searching proved futile as it only produced screwdrivers, wrenches and bolts. You didn’t want to be up here too long, seeing as being caught up here would most likely land you in solitary confinement again, the last thing you need. 

Your name was called out and it caused your heart to leap into your throat, quickly looking at who it was, hearing the racket of the ladder as the person climbed up. 

“What the hell are youses’ doing up here?” Yancys’ mean mug looked over the lip of the building, hard eyes burning holes into your own. Of course it had to be him. 

“I’m looking for something” you hissed at him, quickly digging through the toolbox, anxiety growing. If yancy was curious enough to come up here it wouldn’t be long before a guard came clambering up here too. 

He hoisted himself up onto the roof and prodded into some of the boxes, a curious glance being sent your way “what is it youses’ is looking for?” 

You gave him and Incredulous look, he was helping you? After all the bullying he has done? You might as well lay down in your grave now, assuming this would be used for blackmail in the near future. But it wasn’t like you were going to find want you needed anytime soon. “Metal wedges, the small ones.” You told him, despite your better judgement. 

He hummed lightly, tossing around the contents of a few boxes, hoping to find something of use to you. It was odd to see him acting friendly in your presence, considering his presence alone had made you pass out before. It didn’t take long for him to find what you were looking for, tossing the wedges in your general direction as he told you to get out of here and not come up here again. That sounded more like him. 

You quickly slid down the ladder as the yard time whistle rang, starting to make the trek to go back inside. It didn’t take long for mark to catch up with you, panting, from the run to get to you or getting choked out by a 300 pound man, you weren’t sure. 

“Whats that you have?” He questioned, trying to pry one of the wedges from your tight grasp, you didn’t want to lose them since it took yancy helping you to find them. 

“Metal wedges, I’ll explain more inside and stop trying to grab them” you swatted his hand away, a pout forming on his face. It was met with a sigh, he acted like he was 4 more than anything, why you trusted him enough to do the things you two do? You’ll never know. 

The walk back to your cell was quiet and relatively dull, Mark making a few snide comments to passing inmates who looked like they would love nothing more than to punch his teeth in. You weren’t surprised, he managed to piss off people his first day here and left you all alone to pick up the pieces of his mess. Maybe them punching him would fix his problems. 

Two guards were standing outside your cell, seemingly waiting for you to get back, not noticing your approaching presence. Your eyebrows furrowed as to why they’re there, this hasn’t happened before and they weren’t normally in this cell block. 

“Who are they?” Mark asked, pointing at them “I think I’m gonna go talk to them, yknow? Maybe they need a friend” 

You gritted your teeth as Mark confidently strolled up to them, his opening line was asking how the weather was and if he could go home, what a loser. It shocked you when they immediately detained Mark in cuffs, pushing him against the wall and patting him down for any contraband. That’s when it hit you, this was a cell search. Someone must’ve ratted on you for something and they were searching your cell for odds and ends. You had the box underneath your pillow still and the sheet was barely covering the wall right now, the air from the vents softly swaying it. You felt your throat tightened as you tried to think of what to do, placing the wedges in your back pocket. It wouldn’t take them long to find those. 

You quickly turned back down the hall, trying to make an escape before a looming figure blocked your path, of course it was him. Who else would it be. 

Yancy looked at you with an accusatory gaze, as if you shot him right on the spot. You never understood how people can look at someone like that for no reason. “Where are youses’ going?” He asked, eyes flickering behind you and you watched the realization flow through them. He knew what those guards meant, being bad boy of the place for so long meant he had been searched so many times he had nothing left to hide. He quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you along. 

“Where are we going?” You quickly asked, struggling to keep pace with the man, he may be short but he moved fast. 

“Somewhere youses’ won’t be caught with stolen items” he spoke as if it was the obvious answer, and not that he could’ve been taking you to murder-slaughter himself. But where that somewhere was? It was apparently a utility closet where you were crammed in with yancy, stuffy with poor air. 

As if this couldn’t get and it did.


End file.
